


Unwrapped

by midnightmoka



Series: Piece of Cake: MercyHog After Hours [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Face-Sitting, Friends With Benefits, Holidays, Hook-Up, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rare Pairings, Size Difference, Size Kink, Vaginal Sex, mercyhog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightmoka/pseuds/midnightmoka
Summary: His hands slid under her skirt once more, and Angela’s breath catches in her throat. He’s as gentle as ever with her, even as he pinches her stockings between his fingers and rips them apart.Or, Mercy and Roadhog leave the base holiday party early to other things—namely each other.
Relationships: Roadhog | Mako Rutledge/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Piece of Cake: MercyHog After Hours [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788307
Kudos: 9





	Unwrapped

**Author's Note:**

> I had big juicy plans for kinktober (think clone fucking, slime girls, dominatrix witch mercy, subby road, bondage bonanza), but life got in the way. I am not letting life get in the way a second time, though!! I wanted to do holiday smut if it killed me! And here I am, clinging to life but with holiday mercyhog porn to show for it.
> 
> Oh! Btw, this is part of an ongoing series. You can read the fics as standalone pieces, but they are loosely connected. It's still pretty much just smut, though.

She feels him behind her before she sees him. His attention is as palpable as ever, even through the hubbub of the party. 

“Mako,” Angela greets with a smile, turning to face him. The curve of her lips is polite, but the twinkle in her eyes is playful, impish, and suggestive in a way that only four flutes of champagne brings out of her. 

He looks down at her, his jaw set and eyes calculating as he takes in her cranberry-colored, crushed velvet cocktail dress and candy cane stockings. Before the party, she’d taken extra care to curl her hair into gentle ringlets, pulling back the strands framing her face with snowflake hairpins. 

It’s a rather ostentatious ensemble, a flavor far more festive than her usual brand of dress. Still, she looks damn good, and she’s tipsy enough to be honest about it. The dress’s neckline dips tastefully, clinging distractingly to the tops of her breasts. Its fit flatters her modest curves, and her white heels blend in with the stockings, making her legs appear impossibly long. 

Mako’s hands find his pockets. He  _ looks _ unaffected, but his nigh unreadable expression isn’t impossible for Angela to parse. By now, she knows him better than either would care to admit. 

It takes little inference for Angela to piece together what’s making the cogs in his mind whir, and the realization—more hope than an actual deduction—steals her breath for a heated moment. 

Warm and floating on a bubbly champagne high, Angela fights back a pleased grin and fails spectacularly. She’s too old to act like a schoolgirl all dressed up in hopes of catching her crush’s eye, but that’s exactly how she feels as she returns Mako’s gaze. 

Setting her glass aside, Angela taps the corner of her mouth, making a show of appraising Mako in return. Her eyes sweep across his broad chest and all the way down to the tops of his boots before she lazily brings her gaze back to meet his. Biting her lower lip, she prods him in the chest. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually dress up,” she remarks, her tone impressed and breathy around the edges. 

The deep crimson of his suspenders contrasts sharply against the crisp white of his dress shirt, and it doesn’t escape her notice that he’s even freshened up his black nail polish. 

“Was your idea.” 

“Ah, but you didn’t have to listen.” 

Angela doesn’t fancy herself a seductress; she’s not alluring or beguiling by nature. Still, she can’t help hooking a finger around one of his suspenders and tugging, as if her meager efforts could actually move a man of his stature. 

He doesn’t humor her attempt, instead offering her his hand. 

The gesture is bold. They’re at a party brimming with their colleagues and connections. But perhaps, it’s that very boldness that nudges Angela to forgo her sensibilities. 

Placing her hand in his, she allows herself to be pulled from the festivities. 

It’s not as if anyone will miss her, she thinks. If they notice her absence, they’ll assume she’s retired to her office to resume her never-ending reports and paperwork. 

It won’t occur to them to speculate as to whether or not Mako is dicking her senseless. No, not in the least. That’s her little secret that, if found out, could land her on a  _ serious _ naughty list. And no one spends as much time thinking about Mako as Angela does; she’s certain of it. So, in that regard, she’s safely under the radar. 

The door to Mako’s quarters barely so much as click shut behind them before his mouth is on her, kissing along her clavicle, across the tops of her breasts, and up her neck before meeting her lips. He’s already stolen her breath several times over, and her heart leaps into her throat as he cups her cheek with one hand, toying with the white trim of her dress’s skirt with the other. 

A wave of dizziness washes over her, and she becomes painfully aware of the growing wetness between her legs. She aches to be touched properly. Her body and mind are increasingly desperate with want, addled by his tongue and the champagne humming in her blood. 

With frantic hands, Angela searches Mako’s chest for his suspenders. She doesn’t bother undoing their clasps and instead pulls them from his shoulders as his hand finally slips beneath her skirt and wraps around her ass. 

She moans into his mouth, and the hungry itch under her skin magnifies. She needs all of him now, or she’ll surely expire. 

“Impatient,” he breaths against her mouth, the hand on her cheek sliding into her hair. 

“Is that an observation or a complaint,” Angela groans, her knees weak as he kisses the spot on her neck that makes every last inch of her body tingle. He doesn’t respond, but his hand fists in her hair, drawing a gasp from her. 

Wasting no time, she makes quick work of his buttons. He stops her before she can work his belt loose. Ignoring her frustrated whine, Mako scoops Angela up, takes a seat on the edge of his bed, and deposits her on his lap. 

“Angel.” His voice is a low rumble that makes her tremble down to her toes. “What do you want?” 

“You know what I want,” Angela murmurs, her breath raspy and lips bruised. “Do you intend to make me beg?” 

Without responding, Mako’s hands find her dress’s straps, rolling its cuffed sleeves off her shoulders and freeing her breasts. She shivers, and he presses a hand to the base of her spine, warming and grounding her. 

“You look like a present,” Mako says no differently than he’d comment on the weather. 

“Well, finish unwrapping me, then,” Angela pleads, fretting with her dress’s hem. 

“Think I’ll take my time. I’m in no rush.” 

Swearing softly, Angela shifts in Mako’s lap. He lets her straddle him and doesn’t move to stop her when she tugs his belt free. 

“Mako, please,” Angela groans, grinding against him in an embarrassing display of need. Some desperate part of her mind dares her to pull his heavy cock from his pants and sink onto it, uncaring of what would happen to her stockings. The candy cane patterned fabric is cheap enough; she’d let him rip through them if that would bury him inside her faster. 

Without thinking, she frees his cock. Then, squirming about, Angela pulls her legs under herself, hooking her feet onto Mako’s thighs and pushing herself up to accept his length, stockings and all. 

“I thought about this all day. I didn’t know if you’d come,” she huffs, her breaths growing shorter and more strained as she attempts to seat herself on Mako’s cock. 

A large hand engulfs her hip and holds her still. 

Mako doesn’t ask her what she’s doing, not when her intentions are clearer than the skies back home. Still, he stops her, and she knows why. He wants her to think carefully about her actions. 

For all his calculated subtleties, Angela isn’t sure Mako realizes the effect he has on her. With the way her cunt is throbbing, Angela’s sure she’s soaked through her panties and probably the stockings too. The pressure on her hip is dizzying. His fingers wrap around her side, and his thumb presses into her abdomen. He makes her feel small in a way no one else can. 

Of the two, she’s surely the easier to read, but perhaps, that isn’t true. 

He looks down at her, considering, and then his grip loosens. 

Taking the action as assent, Angela tries to press down onto him only to find that the reason he’s released her is so that he can pull her onto his chest as he lays back on the bed. 

Angela wants to protest, unwilling to be empty a second longer. He doesn’t give her the chance, though. 

His hands slid under her skirt once more, and Angela’s breath catches in her throat. He’s as gentle as ever with her, even as he pinches her stockings between his fingers and rips them apart, honoring her lustful fantasy of ruining them. 

Without further preamble, he thumbs her lace thong aside and pulls her slick cunt down to his mouth, kissing and worshipping it with the same care that he’d paid to her lips. 

Angela’s head swims, and she feels faint in the best way. She groans loudly as he alternates between teasing her clit and licking the length of her cunt. Clutching the hem of her skirt, she peers down at him between her slowly heaving breasts, watching him eat her out. 

His hands wrap around the backs of her thighs, cupping them and holding her down. 

“Mako,” she moans, his name broken and breathy on her lips. 

He doesn’t move to stop her when she grinds against his mouth, building a rhythm that has her core tightening. Everything is so wet and hot. It’s too much. She’s lightheaded and seconds from coming. Her whimpers and moans become less coherent as she mewls and curses softly in her native tongue. 

And as always, Mako brings her right to the edge with ease, watching her writhe on his mouth through hooded eyes. 

Gasping, she topples past her tipping point, jerking almost violently in his grasp. The aching throb from before is nothing compared to the way her cunt pulsates now, her muscles clenching and unclenching as Mako continues to lap at her with blatant disregard for the sharp hiss that escapes her. 

Angela groans, trying and failing to free herself from his unyielding grasp on her thighs. 

He flicks at her oversensitive clit until she crumples over him, panting and shuddering. His eyes sweep across her rosy cheeks and linger on her lips before he kisses her center with a tenderness that pangs her heart. 

An emotion that she’s not brave enough to name lances through her chest like a shard of ice. It’s a sharp contrast to the soft, hazy feeling radiating throughout her pliant body. 

Fleeing the feeling, Angela collects herself. 

“Unzip me,” she commands, scooching back to sit on Mako’s chest. She waits with bated breath as his fingers travel up her back searching for the dress’s clasp. It’s tortuous the way he tugs the zipper down: slow and unbothered by Angela’s mounting impatience. 

He lifts the dress over her head, careful not to overly muss her hair, and drops the garment to the floor. Her stockings are shredded, and her delicate lace thong is still askew, pulled off to the side and slick with her cum. She’s got little left in the way of dignity or grace, but Mako still looks at her like she’s his personal holiday miracle. 

Shaking the observation from her mind, Angela hoists herself over Mako’s straining cock. He steadies himself for her, and she sinks onto his tip, moaning openly at the intrusion. 

Her walls ache, unprepared to accept his girth. He’s too big for her, but she doesn’t intend to let that stop her. Usually, he won’t give her his cock unless she’s been properly stretched out first, but perhaps he’s decided to make this his little gift to her greedy cunt. 

Angela breathes heavily, her hands splayed across his chest as she holds herself up. Slowly—but surely—she accepts his length, inch-by-throbbing-inch, until she can’t take anymore. She’s thoroughly stuffed, and her stomach bulges, showing his impressive size. 

Despite riding his face to climax, the feeling of her pussy clenching and leaking around Mako sends her to dizzying levels of arousal. She can’t focus as her mind reels, and she’s so desperate for friction that she nearly forgets Mako’s presence. All that matters is how full and fucked she feels—and how it’s still not enough. 

Warm hands find her quivering thighs, supporting her weight. Mako helps Angela pulls herself up before slowly, carefully fucking her back onto his length. The moan that escapes her is a breathy cry, and her brow pinches in a mix of pleasure and frustration. She wants to sink onto his cock until it disappears fully inside her, but her body won’t allow it. 

“It’s not…” she pants, her nails dragging across his chest, “...enough.” 

“It is enough,” he disagrees, continuing to help Angela fuck herself on his cock. “You’re perfect.” 

“Perfection is a fallacy,” she groans, swearing softly when she feels her organs press in new directions. 

“You think too much.” Mako’s voice is a dark rasp that sends chills across Angela’s skin, harsh enough to perk her nipples. “It’s a shame.” 

He’s right, of course, but that hardly helps her predicament. 

“Harder,” Angela gasps, begging him to use her for his pleasure. 

He obliges her—to a degree. 

Picking up the pace, he lets her weight drop with less support, ripping desperate cries from her as he bottoms out. Even overstimulated and stretched to her limit, she can’t deny how good it feels to take his cock raw, and each thrust has her seeing stars. 

Mako’s breathing becomes erratic, and Angela can  _ feel _ how close he is. His cock is impossibly hard as it splits her up the middle and jerks inside her. 

His final thrust is almost violent. For a moment, Angela can barely breathe. All she can focus on is the pounding between her legs, her muscles contracting rapidly, and the hot damp feeling of his cum leaking out of her as she slumps onto his chest. 

Tears spring to her eyes, and she presses her forehead into his shoulder, holding back a sob. Mako drapes an arm over her and pulls her closer. Squishing her cheek against his hot skin, she focuses on the weight of his arm and steadies her breathing. He doesn’t pull out of her until she stills against his chest. 

Angela fades in and out of consciousness as Mako sets her aside and cleans up. Peaceful silence hangs between them, and her eyelids flutter closed. 

She wakes to the sound of running water and finds Mako hunched over his bathroom sink, scrubbing lipstick from his neck and collar. She leaves him to it and freshens herself up: retouching her makeup, smoothing out her hair, and peeling off her ruined stockings. She throws the ravaged garment away without a second thought and slips out of her thong. If Mako finds it between his sheets later, well, that’s hardly her problem. Maybe he’ll even return them. 

Shimmying back into her dress, Angela hovers around Mako, watching him thoughtfully. She doubts he’ll rejoin the party, but he doesn’t seem intent to stay in for the night either. He buttons his shirt and straightens his suspenders before facing her. 

Wordlessly, she turns from him, her back exposed and dress unzipped. He zips her up without prompting and then spins her around, tilting her face up with his index finger. The kiss he presses to her forehead is soft, and this close, it’s overwhelming how strongly he smells of her. 

Eyes prickling, Angela forces a half-smile. She’s sure he can see through its fakeness, but he spares her any comments. 

“It’s been a pleasure.” Angela wraps her fingers around Mako’s wrist, gently pulling his hand away from her face. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 

He nods in response and drops his hands to his sides. Then, he watches her leave. 

Like before, his attention is palpable as she bends to collect her heels, and she can still feel the ghost of his gaze when his door clicks shut behind her. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have several other in progress WIPS (and no clue when I'll finish them). I started a mercyhog cyberpunk-ish type thing. It's lacking in the punk department because it's probably gonna be mostly smut, but the vibes are there. I've also got plans for a mercyhog established relationship modern au!!! They live together, and Mako likes baking for some reason. Don't ask!! That's just how it is in my heart.
> 
> I have other ideas bobbing about in my head too, but I am slow to update this account because it's my alt. I'm mostly writing for zines, events, and what not over on my main acct. It's all BNHA over there, though! Feel free to check it out. 💜  
>    
> ~~Links~~  
> 18+ Twitter: ([@midnightmoka](https://twitter.com/midnightmoka))  
> Main AO3 account: [ohmoka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmoka)


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